


We couldn't tell the Difference between the Feeling and the Sound

by goodbyeleijon



Series: RP Shenanigans [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Established Relationship, GamKar in the Background, Karkat smokes when stressed, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 22:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1619732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodbyeleijon/pseuds/goodbyeleijon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And if we get beaten by this winter,<br/>If we get strangled by regret, just<br/>Let our love of life and tension<br/>Gasp in sweet and stuttered breaths</p>
            </blockquote>





	We couldn't tell the Difference between the Feeling and the Sound

**Author's Note:**

> This is another drabble for that RP, I'm trying to bring it into text format but it's a 100 pages long so far and that's a project better left for the time after my finals.

The first day in your new apartment was stressful as fuck. Shared apartment. The first day in your new, shared apartment. You let the words bounce back and forth in your head, turn them over and prod at them a bit to make sure they are real. Your first shared apartment ever, with a half stranger whose car smells like honey, fuel and neglect. Whose eyebrows sometimes do funny things when he's irritated, who smiles when he's nervous. You practically crash landed with some number fetishizing weirdo in the next best city without people you know, leaving everything else behind.  
He's lying next to you on the bed, sprawled out and comfortable, although he twitches a bit from time to time. You're pretty sure he isn't completely asleep yet. But the way he curls his naked toes makes you think of Gamzee and you shudder. How many nights did you watch him sleep?  
Probably too many to count as sane.  
  
But this is different. Sollux doesn't smell of cupcakes and weed, he has something sweet but metallic to him. Like ozone. He reminds you of high school and laundry day, for some reason.  
You're fairly certain Kanaya would like him. They could snark for hours, or maybe Sollux would open up to her and talk about his problems. She's like a therapist, but in contrast to her girlfriend, she actually knows when to back off. You need to call her.  
Turning away from the sleeping guy next to you, you look up at the ceiling and count the small insect murder scenes up there. Six, seven if you count those two in the corner that are really close together. The linen under your back is rough and warm, the air feels thick but cool. You think you smell the earth from the flowerpot you put on the windowsill, but it's very faint.  
The two hours of trying to fall asleep are starting to get on your nerves, and you throw your feet next to the bed, groaning and rubbing your face. Lousy goddamn nightmares. You don't even have trouble sleeping, you just don't want to. Not after an eventful day like this. The sound of your naked feet on the floor sounds like a beat, and you quietly hum to it. Reminds you of Strider. You miss the bastard already. His asshole best friend, not so much.  
Next stop is the bathroom so you can spritz cold water in your face. Better than what would expect you in a dream right now. After that, you pull out your cigarettes and the lighter your dad gave you from your backpack, but when you try to shake one out, you notice that the pack is empty. Damn it. Shoes on your feet, key in hand and money in your pocket, a shockwave of cold wet air greats you outside the door. Yep, that sky definitely looks like it's going to rain. You pull your hood over your head and hurry along the street, hoping to god that you won't end up as a wet cat, or better yet: wet roadkill.  
The automat feels grimy, the people passing you stare at you like you're on drugs, and just when you were about to form flowery curses in your head, clapping thunder rips you out of your thoughts. Fuck. Packet in hand, you run back to your shared apartment. You round the corner and almost slip on a puddle. You hold yourself upwards by a street lantern in the last moment, and that's about enough for you. Head down and hands in your pockets, you set your foot on the street, only thought in mind dedicated to that nice spot next to Sol that you abandoned  
  
And from one moment to the other your ears are ringing with a droning car horn, your legs hurt like someone cast you in wax. You can't move, can't do anything but stare, and the last thing you see before you get ripped out of reality are the trees in the background.  
  
"...living hell- okay? -kid- What the..." Someone is shaking you by the shoulders. Everything is fuzzy. The world is clouded but in a sharp, stinging way, your side hurts like someone decided to pour alcohol over you and then set you on fire. For some reason, you aren't lying on the floor, but leaning against a streetlamp on the sidewalk, and the person in front of you starts to have a face and not just hair and a big colory blob for a body. The realization dawns on you that if this was hell, it would be a pretty nice version.  
"I said are you okay?!! What the hell was even up with you there!! I barely saw you, where did you come from?!" You shake your head. Once. Twice. Violently. And you're ready for an answer.  
"I came from the other side of the street you enormous moron!!" Screaming is good. This is your element. "How about you fucking look where you are driving when you're piloting a 2000 kilo death machine! I could've gotten my ass killed here, and that would've fucked with your life plans real bad, not to mention mine!" You grip the person's hand from your shoulder, and push it off you like it stings. The person whose face you still can't make out completely takes a step back from you, like you are a wild animal that could bite at any moment. Good.  
You force them to take yet another step back when you snarl at them while holding your head. You demand their number and insurance information while quietly wondering how you can think so clearly. Next thing you know, you are in your hallway, and everything is way too sharp. The white on the walls is oversaturated, your eyes burn. You want to claw them out, and your right arm right with them. Pain washes over you with every step, and you collapse on the couch without making it to the bed. Some part of you knows that falling asleep right now could be one of your worst ideas, right up there with ever talking to Vriska and eating three pots of ice cream in January.


End file.
